dance me to the end of the world
by yellow river nerf herder
Summary: Jill.Gustafa;; Even if logic or theories cannot explain why we have to hold hands like this, our hearts and mind can.


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(one **disclaim**-_age_ of** Natsume's** **Harvest Moon **coming up)

(Gustafa-** Even if logic or theories cannot explain why we have to hold hands like this, our hearts and mind can)**

(i hate capitalization. **UGH**. the things i do for love D; oh, and this doesn't go in order. _kinda_)

(… aaaaaand it might not make sense. _but _i'm hoping it might to someone **x3**)

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**dance me to the end of the world**

**-x-**

**I **look at our son—_our_ son, newborn and so small and pale. I look at our son and think, doesn't he look like a dreamer? He's gonna be something fierce, _huh_ Gustafa? _Galileo_. I named him Galileo because I think he looks like a Galileo. Don't you? Lumina thinks so too. She thinks that Galileo will be a genius, and more than offered to look after him whenever I need some time off because having a kid turns you inside out. Just look at Cecilia, she said, and I said_ Alright_, _but only Wednesdays kiddo._

Muffy thinks he looks like more of a Jack ("_Jack_?" "Get it? Jack _and_ Jill?" "… Muffy," "Okay, okay, _sorry_," ) but I think Jack is a common name. A name for anybody, y'know? Anyone can be a Jack (no offense to all the Jack's of the world), _but_ a Galileo? Why, that takes a special sort of person.

It's strange being a parent. Strange knowing that _that _living breathing squishy little heart wrapped in bones and skin came out of you. Out of me. _Me_, the girl who swore to her mom (who laughed at me at the time. _Thanks_ mom) when she was just a freshman that she would never _ever_ have a kid.

Because_, because _kids are selfish and demanding and essentially, a miniature version of me, and who needed another _me_? I argued, frustrated that mom wouldn't believe me and didn't even bother to pretend that she wasn't laughing at me. And now, thirteen years later, here I was, screeching my head off as Dr. Hardy instructed me to push ("What do you think I'm doing? _Huhrrgh_?") and sobbing because it hurt so much and _and _then …

The door flew open, the sweltering summer heat rushing in. It was _you_, Gustafa, you, and I almost couldn't believe it. Takakura had gotten ahold of you and told you that I was in labor, and _yes_, the baby was supposed to be born in the fall _but_ I guess he just couldn't wait. And those words had you jumping into your friend's pickup and driving hours to Forget-Me-Not just to be with me. Just to see our son being born.

You were at my side, and our hands found each other, your hand, warm and too big enveloping my small one and you brushed my hair away from my face. And whispered _I love you Jillian_, _I do_, _everything's gonna be alright, push, keep on pushing Jillian, that's it, outta girl_—

And then silence. Wailing. It was as if everything had turned to black-and-white, to silence. I was deaf to everything but the wails of our son, now named Galileo. I laid back against the cool pillow damp with hours of sweat, suddenly worn. 'I want to hold him—can I?' I asked, because that was the only thing on my mind. Isn't that the only thing on a new mother's mind, or any new parents mind Gustafa? To hold their newborn?

Dr. Hardy smiled—which was disturbing, because Dr. Hardy is _Dr. Hardy _and Dr. Hardy does _not_ smile. ever. But he rose to his sandaled feet and shuffled over to you and I. He handed you Galileo, and instructed you on how to hold him. You got it eventually, because holding Galileo was like holding a guitar, you later told me— and you have to cradle it.

'Jillian—_Jillian_ … _here,_' You said, and you passed Galileo into my arms. I sat up immediately, sleep forgotten in lieu of our son, and I'll never forget how it felt to hold him that day. I still get that feeling every time I hold him in my arms, that surreal sense of everything clicking into place, of wishing that this would last forever.

I look at our son and think, he's going to grow up to be something beautiful, something fierce, some kind of wonderful. Just like his father. And it's true, he _will_, Gustafa, I can just tell.

-**x**-


End file.
